


in breakable heaven

by televangelists



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, in which i attach a deeper meaning to adora's red jacket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/televangelists/pseuds/televangelists
Summary: Later, Catra will remember it like this; the colors of the town bright and alive around them, the sun warm against their backs, Adora’s hand in hers, and Adora -Adora won’t remember it at all.[Catra, Adora, and one perfect day spent together.]
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 169





	in breakable heaven

**Author's Note:**

> something short and sweet and a little sad, inspired by the angel episode "i will remember you." alexa, if you're reading this - this one's for you

Memory was a curse, yes, he thought, but it was also the greatest gift. Because if you lost memory, you lost everything.

― Anne Rice, from _Blood and Gold_

Catra doesn’t hope for things. 

She doesn’t follow many rules in her life, but there’s one that she is resolved never to break; _don’t let your hopes get too high_. She’s learned the hard way that it only ever leads to disappointment. It’s better to hope for nothing, because then there’s no surprise when nothing is exactly what she gets.

If her years in the Horde have taught her anything, it’s that there’s no room for dreams or wishes. 

So Catra keeps her expectations low and pushes her hopes down into the smallest, safest part of herself. She learns to hide her hope, to keep it secret from the rest of the world, and sometimes even from herself. 

This is something that Adora, for all her strengths and skills, has never learned how to do.

“Come on, Catra,” Adora says, tugging on her arm. “Will you please come along with me?”

Catra groans and shoves her away lightly, letting her hand linger on Adora’s shoulder just a moment too long. “Adora, no. It’s a waste of time.”

Adora bites her lip, her eyebrows knit together. “How is it a waste of time to wait for the Force Captains list to be posted?”

“Because it won’t be out for another two days, and you know that as well as I do.”

Adora lets out a sigh, and Catra studies her carefully, taking in her wide grey eyes and hopeful expression. Adora has always been an open book; Catra can’t imagine ever letting herself be that careless with her emotions. Can’t imagine ever letting herself be that hopeful.

Then again, Adora is nothing like Catra. Adora isn’t the kind of person whose hopes go unfulfilled.

So maybe it makes sense after all.

“Can we go anyway?” Adora asks, and Catra lets out an exasperated breath but lets Adora pull her to her feet and drag her down the corridor, through the cold, grey-green metal doors, past the medbay to the entrance of the mess hall.

“See?” Catra says, leaning up against the wall, her tail twitching back and forth impatiently. “Nothing yet.” She gestures at the blank space on the bulletin board by the door, a space shaped like a sheet of paper that will hold the future in its jumbled list of names. “And we won’t be on it even when it does. We won’t be old enough to get promoted for another year.”

“Yeah, I know,” Adora says, a little bit sadly. “It’s just that seeing the list is still important to me, even if we won’t be on it yet. It’s a reminder that we’re working towards something real. We’ve been waiting so long for this! Aren’t you excited?” 

“I guess,” Catra concedes grudgingly. She _is_ excited for the announcement of the next Force Captains, excited for a time where she and Adora will finally be the ones calling the shots, but she has a sinking feeling that hers won’t be the name on the list. It will be Adora.

It will always be Adora.

(Catra can’t almost even blame Hordak and Shadow Weaver for choosing Adora. She knows that Adora is something special, remembers it every time she looks over at Adora’s strong jawline and bright grey eyes and slightly messy blonde hair. If she could, she would choose Adora too.

But it still hurts.)

“It’ll be soon,” Adora says. “We’ll be in charge around here, and then we can rule the world. Remember how we always said it would be?”

Catra does. Long nights spent lying awake, crammed into the same bed, laughing and whispering to each other while they make up scenarios in which they’re the co-leaders of the Horde and all of Etheria belongs to them. She’s not sure she could forget if she tried. 

“Yeah, alright,” Catra says indifferently. “I’m excited.” 

Adora rolls her eyes. “You don’t look excited.”

“I am. This is my excited face,” Catra says, giving Adora the most deadpan look she can muster. Adora laughs and reaches out to jab her in the ribs, right where she knows Catra is the most ticklish, and Catra leaps away with a yelp of surprised laughter that she would never let anyone but Adora hear. 

“Really, though,” Adora says, her hand still resting against Catra’s ribcage. “I’m so glad I get to do this with you.”

Catra wonders if Adora can feel her heart beating. She takes a subtle step back, breaking the contact between them. 

Soldiers in the Horde aren’t supposed to feel anything for each other - aren’t supposed to feel anything, period - but lately, Catra has been noticing that Adora has an undeniable effect on her. Every time Adora smiles at her, or pins her during combat training, or lets Catra sneak into her bed at night even though they’re supposed to be sleeping separately now, Catra can’t help but feel something. 

Heart racing. Stomach swooping. Hot blood rushing through her veins, making her feel more alive than she ever has before.

Catra tries to push these feelings down and bury them right next to her hopes. It’s hard and it’s easy - hard because neither of them want to stay buried very deep, easy because most of her hopes feel the exact same as her feelings for Adora.

“Shut up, sap,” she says to Adora. “Come on, let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

//

They end up sitting at the top of the Fright Zone’s watchtower, leaning against the railing together like they have a thousand times before. Catra looks off to the left, where the sun on the horizon sometimes pushes through at the edge of the dense darkness covering the Fright Zone, and sees that it’s just barely risen.

“Adora,” she complains. “You dragged me over to look at the empty space where the Force Captains list will be _this_ early in the morning?”

“Shut up,” Adora replies. “I was doing you a favor by waking you up anyway. If Octavia finds you sleeping through morning roll call one more time, she’s probably going to throw you to Shadow Weaver.”

“Whatever,” Catra mumbles. “Not like I haven’t been through that a hundred times already.”

Adora’s expression softens. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Catra lies. “I’m not scared of her.”

Adora doesn’t respond to that, just rests a hand on top of Catra’s and leans into her a little bit, and Catra lets her because she knows that Adora knows she’s lying, and anyways the touch is comforting in a way that very few things in her life are.

Adora’s skin is warm and soft, and Catra finds herself eyeing the horizon again, searching out that tiny slice of sunlight far in the distance. She suddenly wants to be there more than anything.

She nudges Adora. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

Catra flashes Adora a devilish smile, letting one of her fangs slide out over her lower lip. “You want to go somewhere else?” 

//

They sneak out through the loading docks, stealing a skiff and flying out of the Fright Zone under the cover of the damp, sweet, early-morning fog.

Catra handles the tiller, sending them along at a faster pace than they’re usually allowed to set during drill, pushing them in a weaving pattern of lefts and rights just for the fun of it. Adora leans against one side of the skiff, a slightly worried expression on her face.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra says. “Lose the doom and gloom, alright?”

“I know,” Adora says. “I just - what if they notice we’re gone?”

“Then they notice,” Catra says airily, with a nonchalance that she doesn’t quite feel. “We’ll be fine. You’ve got Shadow Weaver in your pocket. Plus, we can just say we went out on surveillance or something.”

“Yeah...I don’t know. It feels a little risky, is all.”

“Of course it is,” Catra says. “But don’t you think it’ll be worth it?”

Adora nods, and Catra lets out a quiet breath of relief. For her, it’s so much more than worth it.

For Adora, she’d risk anything.

They cross over the boundary that separates the Fright Zone from the rest of Etheria, and Catra steers the skiff towards the rising sun. The sunlight slants through the sky to catch Adora’s smile, content at the edges, and illuminates her in solid gold. 

Catra thinks it’s kind of fitting. Adora has always been golden to her.

“Let’s go over that way,” Adora says, motioning towards the left. “It looks nice.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Catra says, giving her a mocking salute. “You know you’re not a Force Captain yet, right?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Adora protests. “It just seems nice to me. It feels right.”

Catra follows her gaze and sees a break in the treetops, a clearing covered by blue sky. She can vaguely hear the sound of some kind of music drifting towards them, pretty and light and nothing like the harsh, grating soundtracks that occasionally accompany their training videos. Even from up here, it does look like a nice place.

And she understands what Adora is saying about something just _feeling right._ She gets that kind of feeling every time she looks at Adora.

“Alright,” Catra says, pushing the tiller away from her to bring them onto the right course. “Sounds good to me.”

Adora flashes her a bright smile, resting a hand on her arm, and Catra lets out a purr of happiness before she can stop herself. 

“Quit that,” she says, pulling away from Adora a little bit. “You’ll screw up my steering.”

Adora just laughs and wraps her arm around Catra’s waist. Catra lets the skiff drift off too far to the left because she leans into the touch instead of paying attention to the tiller.

They land on the edge of the clearing. Now that they’re on the ground, they can see that there’s a town in front of them, a brightly colored town with small buildings surrounding a fountain and a town square. It looks like every other Etherian town that they’ve been shown in training films, but for once, Catra isn’t interested in mocking the gaudy princess-esque decor or conquering the inhabitants. 

She can’t quite explain why, but she wants to experience this town as a person, not a soldier. 

Adora hops out of the skiff, her boots sinking into the soft grass. Catra grabs her wrist, holding her back for a moment. (Gently, softly. She can feel Adora’s pulse fluttering beneath her fingers like the wings of a hummingbird. Delicate and alive.)

“Wait a moment,” Catra says. “Can we just - can we not be Horde soldiers today?”

Adora tips her head to one side, that familiar look of dopey confusion on her face. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Catra’s tail lashes behind her, coming to wrap around Adora’s other wrist. “I want to go into this town, or village, or whatever, and be treated normally. For this one time, I don’t want people to run or hide at the sight of us. I want to, I don’t know. Just have a good day.” _With you._

Adora’s mouth curls up at the corner. “You? Not wanting people to fear you on sight? Where’s my Catra and what have you done with her?”

“Shut up,” Catra mutters, every cell in her body feeling like it’s burning. _My Catra._ As if she’s Adora’s. 

(As if she’s ever not been.)

“You’ll be fine,” Adora says, casting Catra a quick look. “Your clothes don’t have the Horde logo or anything. But my shirt does, on the back. Maybe I could turn it inside out or something?” She experimentally raises her shirt halfway up her torso; Catra turns away, her face and insides burning at the sight of Adora’s bare skin, even though it’s something she’s seen a hundred times before.

“Forget that,” she says, pushing Adora’s shirt back down. “Just stay here for a moment, okay?”

Adora nods, and Catra leaves the shelter of the trees, moving towards the town. She sneaks a look back over her shoulder to where Adora is standing, the shadows falling long around her, and feels a strange ache in her stomach, like she shouldn’t be walking away. She shakes it off. She won’t be gone long.

The streets of the town are filled with people, even though it’s still early morning, but Catra manages to find a clothing store. Two minutes of bargaining later and she’s headed back to Adora, carrying a folded red bundle in her arms.

“Hey,” Adora grins at her. “That was quick. What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Something to cover your shirt.” Catra hands over the red jacket that she managed to convince the shopkeeper to part with in a ridiculously one-sided deal. 

Adora takes the jacket from her, holding it up to the light with an expression of happy surprise. “Catra, this is - really nice, actually. How’d you get it?”

“Traded Kyle’s favorite hat for it,” Catra smirks. “He’ll get over it.”

Adora slips her arms into the jacket, shoving her left hand into one of the pockets. Catra takes a moment to admire how good it looks on her; the bold red makes her eyes look even greyer, like the sky after a rainstorm or the depths of the ocean on a cloudy day. “I don’t know if I should be worried that you’re carrying his hat around or not.”

“Don’t be. I was just waiting for an opportunity like this one.”

Adora’s laugh is pure music. “Alright then.” She loops her arm through Catra’s, and they walk towards the town together. The skiff sits abandoned under the trees, cast into dark shadow, as Catra and Adora emerge into the sunlight.

//

Later, Catra will remember it like this; the colors of the town bright and alive around them, the sun warm against their backs, Adora’s hand in hers, and Adora -

Adora won’t remember it at all.

//

“Come on,” Catra says, pulling Adora towards a row of stands piled high with multicolored objects that smell delicious. She’s used to a steady diet of ration bars and the occasional crushed, out-of-date Etherian snacks obtained by bribing the guards at the loading docks, so she’s not passing up an opportunity to try actual food for once.

Adora picks up a bright pink oval-shaped thing, and Catra leans closer, curious. The thing smells sweet, like the honeydew flowers that once blossomed on top of the Fright Zone watchtower before Shadow Weaver found and destroyed them. “What is this?”

The stall vendor looks at them happily. “That’s one of the best strawberry cakes you’ll find in Elberon. Baked them fresh this morning. Go on, take a bite. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried our pastries.”

Adora slowly takes a mouthful of the cake, and her entire face lights up. “Whoa. That’s amazing. Catra, you have to try this.” 

“Alright, you don’t need to shove it in my face,” Catra says, pulling Adora’s hand closer to her and taking a bite from the cake that she’s holding. Her eyes go wide as the flavor hits her.

It’s nothing like the brown ration bars, or even the grey ones; nothing like the battered, bruised, smuggled foods that she’s tasted in the shadows of the loading docks. It tastes like sunshine and happiness and the rainbow that appeared over the Fright Zone once after a heavy rainstorm. 

Adora beams at her. “Good, right?”

“So good,” Catra mumbles around the cake, reaching for the stall in front of them and sweeping up an armful of pastries. “Grab some more.”

“Uh, Catra,” Adora says hesitantly. “We don’t have any money.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” the stall vendor says, waving a hand at them. “Go on, take what you want. It’s a festival day anyway, and besides, you two look so happy together.”

Catra twitches one ear, listening intently. “A festival day?”

“Yes, we’re celebrating the summer solstice with games and song and dance all day. It’s an Elberon tradition.”

Another group of customers comes over to the stall, and the vendor sends Catra and Adora off with a cheery wave and a couple of extra cakes. 

“Huh,” Catra says as they walk away. “You know, I thought people here would be kind of lame, but that guy was actually...really nice?”

“He was,” Adora agrees, pushing another cake into her mouth. “And he had good food.”

Catra looks around as they walk, noticing that people everywhere are dressed in fancy clothes and gathered in small groups, talking and laughing and scattering flower petals across the streets. A cloud of pink blossoms cascades down around them, filling the air with a sweet scent, and for a moment, it’s like Catra and Adora are closed inside their own little bubble, flowers surrounding them, Adora smiling at Catra as a petal lands on her nose. She reaches over to brush it off, trails her thumb along Catra’s cheek as she does so, and Catra can only stand and breathe, hoping despite herself. (For what, she’s not quite sure yet.)

And then the moment is broken, and the petals fall down, and the world is open again.

“There’s a bunch of games over here,” Adora says, tugging on Catra’s hand. “Let’s go look.”

“What are you, six?” Catra grumbles, but she lets Adora lead her along, because she’d go anywhere as long as it’s by Adora’s side.

As it turns out, the games are actually kind of fun.

“You’re a natural,” one of the townspeople says admiringly, watching as Catra throws a handful of darts with perfect accuracy, each landing directly in the center of the target. “Here’s your prize.” He drapes a necklace of flowers around Catra’s neck, and Catra grins.

“I think that’s kind of cheating,” Adora says in a low voice, poking Catra in the ribs. “Seeing as we’ve had years of practice with stuff like this.”

Catra shrugs. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them. Come on, I want to win some more prizes.”

Adora rolls her eyes but follows Catra to the next booth and rests against the wooden counter, waiting while Catra picks up a stack of sticks to throw at a straw dummy. Catra’s eyes catch on Adora’s lazy lean, the slant of her mouth, the tilt of her head. 

“Can you stop?” Catra says. “That’s distracting.”

Adora’s mouth quirks into a slightly confused smile. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are. The whole - everything - never mind,” Catra huffs. She tosses the sticks, missing badly, and Adora laughs.

“Looks like your luck ran out,” she says with a snort.

Catra pouts a little bit. “Whatever. Forget the games, let’s get more food.”

Adora nods in agreement, slips her hand into Catra’s, weaves their fingers together like it’s the most natural gesture in the world. Catra brushes her thumb against the back of Adora’s hand and feels the soft warmth of familiar comfort, leans forward onto Adora’s shoulder.

For this one day, she feels like she can hope for something. 

//

They get plates of food from the tents by the town square and settle down in the grass, Adora sprawling out and taking up most of the room. Catra rests herself against Adora’s legs, stares up at the small white clouds drifting across the soft blue sky. 

“It’s nice to see the sky properly,” Adora says quietly. “We never really see it in the Fright Zone.”

“We never really see a lot of things in the Fright Zone,” Catra reminds her. 

Adora rests an arm under her head, expression turning thoughtful. “That’s true.”

Catra looks around at the happy townspeople surrounding them and she really wants to make a sarcastic comment or mock their happiness, but for once, she can’t quite find it in herself. She can’t keep herself from wondering what it would be like to live like this, with the sky a clear blue instead of blanketed with fog, and the happy laughter of friends instead of the gruff barking of sergeants and Force Captains.

She’s never imagined a life outside of the Horde, but now she’s starting to think about it.

“Etheria is really pretty,” Adora says. “I know there’s rebel settlements all over the place, but this town...this is nice.”

Catra only nods, and waits until Adora finishes her food. She’s lost most of her appetite.

“There’s some kind of juggling show going on over there,” Adora says, pointing in the direction of the town’s main building. “Wanna check it out?”

“Of course you’d want to go see a bunch of clowns,” Catra scoffs. “That’s where you belong, alright.”

Adora doesn’t shoot a joke back, doesn’t roll her eyes or even sigh like she usually would. She just tips her head to one side and gives Catra an unreadable smile. 

“Maybe later,” Catra says. “I want to stay here for a moment longer.”

Adora reaches for her hand again, and it’s easy for Catra to let her take it, easy in a way that it shouldn’t be, easy in a way that years of Horde training should have beaten out of her. Catra pushes every notion of safety and regulation out of her mind, lets them float away like leaves in the wind, lets herself hold Adora’s hand and hope for something better.

//

They watch the jugglers. They try more cakes. Catra pushes Adora into the town fountain, laughing as she scowls and wrings water out of her jacket like it’s a sponge. They sit by the clock tower and as Adora waits for the sun to dry her completely, Catra looks at her fondly, feeling a sense of contentment radiating outward from her very bones. 

She’s never been this happy in her life.

“What?” Adora says, pushing a strand of blonde hair off of her forehead. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Catra twitches one ear. “I’m not.”

“Okay, weirdo,” Adora laughs. “Whatever you say.”

Adora’s hair is messy and dripping, coming loose from her ponytail and falling around her face in wavy tangles. Catra reaches up and pushes it back for her, even though it’s still wet. 

//

The sun is low in the sky when they finally, reluctantly admit that they should probably be leaving. Catra knows that there’s definitely going to be some kind of punishment coming unless they manage to sneak back into the Fright Zone undetected, but she’s ready to take it. She can’t imagine anything bad enough to outweigh the perfection of this day. 

“I’m going to miss this,” Adora says as they pass through the town square. “Still, it’ll be good to get back to the Fright Zone.”

Catra catches her eye, arches an eyebrow. “Really?”

“No.”

The two of them burst into laughter. They walk past the last two rows of houses, the streetlamps flickering into golden life around them and shining against the orange-streaked sky. Catra glances off to her left, down one of the side streets, and freezes. 

There are two girls standing there, standing close just like Catra and Adora are. They’re laughing and smiling, and as Catra watches, one of them pushes the other back against the wall and steps forward and kisses her. 

Catra feels something hot and aching in her chest, some kind of longing that she’s never known before. It’s like hunger, like yearning, like the deepest of desires. 

Adora starts to look over in their direction and Catra practically shoves her to the ground in her hurry to move the taller girl along. She doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t want Adora to see the girls in the alley. Somehow, it would feel like admitting something to her. Like confessing something. 

They reach the trees and find the skiff, Catra’s chest still burning. She feels like she’s too big for her body.

Adora starts the skiff up, flashing her a quick smile. They fly up, across the treetops, through the soft colors of the sky. Catra looks at Adora standing in the front of the skiff, her face turned golden in the light of the sunset, and for the first time, she feels nothing but contentment with what she has.

Maybe they don’t have to conquer the world. Maybe it’s enough to live in it.

“Adora…” Catra starts, wanting to say something without knowing how to. She thinks about sunlight and flower blossoms, about knapsacks and grey ration bars and tents and the survival kits in the supply hall and Adora - 

Adora is right in front of her now, eyes wide and mouth curved into a happy, satisfied smile that Catra knows better than her own reflection.

“What?” Adora says, and Catra’s not brave enough to say it.

“This was a decent day, yeah?” she says instead.

“The best I’ve ever had,” Adora says easily, openly. “There’s only one thing that could make it better.”

She steps even closer, and the air between them feels like it’s sparking. Catra feels her heart pushing against the confines of her ribs, feels every piece of herself reaching towards Adora. 

Adora’s eyes are as grey and as hopeful as Catra’s ever seen them. Catra chokes out a quick breath. “Well?” 

Adora kisses her, and every hope and feeling that Catra has ever tried to suppress explodes into a riot of emotion inside her chest.

She thinks about the two girls she saw in the street and wonders if she’s somehow wished herself and Adora into their bodies, because this can’t be real, this _can't_ be. 

But it is, and Adora’s hand is resting at the small of her back, and she’s kissing Catra in a way that’s so very _Adora_ ; a little bit clumsy, but honest and open and beautiful.

Adora pulls back and rests her forehead against Catra’s, her breathing uneven. Catra smirks and presses her thumb to the corner of Adora’s mouth, lets it linger on her bottom lip. 

“Best day ever,” Adora says. She smiles, wide and bright, and Catra kisses her again.

//

They get back to the Fright Zone after nightfall, stowing the skiff in the dark of the loading docks and sneaking in through the faulty air vent in sector 4A. Adora looks cautiously up and down the hall before heading towards the bunkroom, Catra following closely in her footsteps. 

“They’re sleeping,” Adora whispers. “I think we’re good.” 

“Alright,” Catra whispers back. She looks at Adora, wondering if she’ll ever get to kiss her again. Maybe they’ll have stolen moments in the storerooms, in the bunks after dark, or maybe - 

Maybe they can leave and build a new life together, where none of their moments have to be stolen. 

“Adora - ” 

Desertion is mutiny in the Horde. But it would only have consequences if they were caught. 

“Shhh,” Adora says. “Keep it down.” She slips her fingers around Catra’s wrist, presses her into the shadow of the wall and pulls her into one last kiss. Catra closes her eyes and wishes this moment would last forever. 

“Okay,” Adora says, her breaths a little uneven. “Let’s go.” 

Catra nods and takes a step towards the bunkroom. She puts a hand on the doorknob, feels the metal surface pull the warmth from her skin. 

Just before she turns it, there’s the sound of footsteps behind them. Deliberate, heavy footsteps, each falling with a weight that terrifies Catra to the very bone. 

“And _what_ ,” Shadow Weaver says, her tone low and dangerous, “do you two think you’re doing?” 

Catra feels her heart drop all the way to the floor and shatter into pieces, along with every hope she’d foolishly let free. 

Adora’s eyes are wide with shock, but she boldly steps in front of Catra. Normally Catra would resent that, would say she doesn’t need Adora to protect her, but she’s frozen to the spot. 

“Shadow Weaver, we weren’t - ” Adora starts, still blocking Catra from harm’s way. “We went out to do a practice recon mission, that’s all.” 

“A practice recon mission,” Shadow Weaver says, scorn and disbelief dripping from every word. “When you were both on the books for drill all day today.” 

“Well,” Adora says, fishing desperately for the right words. Catra silently prays that they somehow make it out of this unscathed, but she already knows that this prayer will go unanswered the way almost all of hers do. 

Shadow Weaver takes a step to the left, moving so that she can see Catra clearly. Catra’s tail lashes back and forth before she can stop it. 

“ _You_ ,” Shadow Weaver hisses. “No matter what I tell you, you remain determined to drag Adora down with your petty mediocrity.”

“She wasn’t doing anything!” Adora says loudly, but Shadow Weaver isn’t listening. 

“I’ll deal with you in a moment,” Shadow Weaver says to Adora. “Catra, you come with me.” 

“No!” Adora yells. “No, leave her alone, this wasn’t her fault!” 

But her words fall on deaf ears. Shadow Weaver grabs Catra by the shoulder, her touch rough, her fingers biting into Catra’s skin hard enough to leave bruises. Catra grimaces in pain, her fangs sliding out and cutting her lip open. Hot streams of blood run into her mouth, the taste salty and bitter, as Shadow Weaver drags her down the hall. 

As Catra glances back, the last thing she sees is Adora staring after them, her face blown wide open with fear. 

“What are you gonna do?” Catra asks as Shadow Weaver pulls her into an empty storeroom and throws her roughly to the floor. “Torture me?” She tries to make her voice sound defiant, but it just sounds broken. 

“Something like that,” Shadow Weaver says. A red flame appears in her hand, filling the room with a crackling sound and lighting her expression of sadistic glee. Catra digs her claws into the ground, carving deep furrows in the metal, desperately trying not to show her fear. 

“Listen to me,” Shadow Weaver says. She takes a step forward; Catra takes one back. They’re locked in the same deadly dance that they’ve been doing ever since Catra showed up on the Fright Zone’s doorstep - Shadow Weaver attacking, Catra evading. “You will not distract Adora with your idiotic games anymore, do you understand? I will fix this mistake and let you live, just this once, but if I ever catch you doing anything like this again, I will not hesitate to exterminate you like I should have done years ago.”

Catra’s blood goes cold. It’s not from the threat - she’s used to those, from a lifetime of suffering Shadow Weaver’s wrath - but from the insinuation.

“Fix this?” she echoes, her voice cracking. “What do you mean?”

“I will erase Adora’s memory of this day. To her, it will be as if it never happened. This is the only way to make sure she stays on track.”

Catra feels like there are shards of ice slipping under her skin, cutting her open from the inside out. Shadow Weaver can’t. She _can’t_. 

“You can’t do this,” Catra says desperately, begging now and not caring how pathetic she sounds. “Please, don’t - ” 

“I can and I will,” Shadow Weaver says. “Now be silent and take your punishment, or I will make you endure it even longer.”

She raises her handful of fire, brings it down with a flash of red and a crackle of pure heat. Catra feels a searing pain, and then she stops feeling anything at all.

//

When she comes to, Shadow Weaver is standing over her, looking impatient. 

“Finally,” she says, kicking Catra in the ribs. “Get into the bunkroom and go to sleep. And if you breathe a single word of this to Adora - ” She lets the threat hang in the air between them, unfinished and unspoken, but understood all too well by Catra.

Catra painfully makes her way back to the bunkroom, clutching at her chest. She stops at the foot of Adora’s bunk, looks down.

Adora is lying on her stomach, her limbs and hair splayed out across the bed, one hand clutching her pillow tightly. Catra carefully settles at her feet, lying down next to her the way she has a thousand times before, and lets out a shallow breath for the first time she can remember since stepping into the storeroom with Shadow Weaver.

Every part of Catra aches. Her body. Her heart. Her mind.

She looks over at Adora’s sleeping form and hopes - against useless, futile, idiotic hope - that in the morning, Adora will somehow remember all of this. 

//

Catra wakes up to someone touching her shoulder. Even without opening her eyes, she knows it’s Adora. The touch is soft and light, and for one hazy, sunlit moment, Catra is sure that Adora remembers, because she’s touching Catra like it means something different than before. Like Catra is something precious. 

And then the touch turns into a rough shaking, and all of Catra’s hopes are dashed.

“Come on, Catra,” Adora says, and Catra cracks an eye open to see her bouncing around on the mattress, already dressed in her drill uniform. “We’re running the obstacle course in duos today and we’re allowed to pick our partners, so get up! This is going to be the best day ever!”

 _It already was,_ Catra wants to say. The words hover at the back of her throat, linger on her tongue, the taste of them a bittersweet pill. 

But she can’t say it, so she just gets to her feet and tries to cover the bruises on her arm. 

Adora reaches up to the bunk above them and pulls down the red jacket that Catra got for her yesterday, and it’s like all the breath has been pulled right out of Catra’s lungs. She watches as Adora slides her arms into the sleeves, wondering why Shadow Weaver even let her keep it. 

Catra realizes that it’s probably because it will serve as a reminder to her. To Adora, it will just be a jacket; to Catra, it will always be a memory of the day that Adora will never know about.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra says, forcing her voice to stay light and unaffected. “Where’d you get that jacket?”

Adora frowns, running her hands over the pockets. “Uh - that’s weird, actually. I don’t remember.” 

Catra nods in defeat, suddenly hating the jacket in all its bright red glory. She wants to hide it. Wants to burn it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Adora asks.

The words hit Catra like a punch to the stomach as she remembers Adora saying the exact same thing yesterday, smiling and laughing and dripping fountain water, leaning against Catra’s shoulder and letting Catra run a hand through her hair.

“Are you okay?” Adora presses on, looking concerned now.

Catra takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. She lets her thoughts linger on yesterday for one more moment, drifts through every golden minute of that day, and then pushes the memory down to the same place where her hopes are buried. 

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling at Adora through the pain and the hurt and the bittersweet taste in her mouth. “Everything is perfect.”

Adora smiles back and drags her out the door, and Catra tries to ignore the ache of loss that presses against her chest. 

//

Years later, when the war is over and the danger is past, Catra and Adora will spend a peaceful day with Bow and Glimmer.

They’ll teleport all over Etheria, visiting the other princesses. They’ll visit the steam grottoes at Mystacor, and Catra will pretend to get annoyed when Adora flicks water droplets at her. They’ll raid the Bright Moon kitchens for cake and sit on the floor to eat it. 

And at the end of the day, Adora and Catra will curl up on a bed meant for one, in a room that’s now home for two.

“Best day ever,” Adora will say, her smile lazy and content, and Catra will freeze as those three simple words bring her back to another day in another time, in what almost seems like another life.

“What?” Adora will say. 

Catra will lower her head and blink back tears. She’ll let Adora drag the story out of her, bit by painful bit. 

When she’s done, Adora will reach for the jacket slung carelessly across the end of their bed, clutch the fabric to her chest tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” she’ll say, eyes glistening with tears that she won’t bother to hold back. Still an open book, after all these years. “I’m so sorry, Catra.”

Catra will look at her in disbelief. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“For letting that happen. For not remembering.” Adora will wipe at her tears, and Catra will wrap her arms around her, letting her girlfriend curl into her chest and cry. “That was our first best day ever, and I can’t even remember a single minute of it.”

Catra will press a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry,” she’ll say. “We have all the time in the world to make up for it.”

Adora will look at her then, that familiar hopeful expression on her face, and Catra will smile. 

“Besides,” she’ll say. “Every day is the best day ever when I’m spending it with you.”

It will be a sappy statement, but no less true for that, and when Adora smiles, Catra will know that it’s worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> i was going to just end it without the "years later" bit but i was told i had to make the ending happy so here we are
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/thymewars)


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